She wanted to stop him. For Andelain’s sake, she should have shouted objections to the heavens. But he had already reached for the ineffable puissance of the dagger.

Neither the Humbled nor Stave made any attempt to prevent him.

He would not be able to withdraw the krill. He was only human now, and the blade was deeply embedded. Over the centuries, the stump had become as hard as ironwood. In fact, he should not even have been able to touch the knife. Linden had felt its heat. Sunder had carried it wrapped in cloth so that it would not burn his skin. Nevertheless Covenant closed both hands around the weapon’s haft. His shoulders hunched as he began to pull.

Silhouetted against the light, he seemed to loom larger—black and ominous—as he strained to draw the knife from its ancient sheath. Linden could not see his face, but she could feel his muscles tremble. And—

Oh, God!

—she could smell the nauseating sweetness as his flesh began to burn. The dagger was not merely hot: it was suddenly too hot. A new rush of power blazed like incandescence from the gem: Joan’s power. A rightful white gold wielder—No ordinary fabric would have given Covenant enough protection. He would sear the skin from his bones before he moved the krill.

“Linden!” panted Liand. Pahni and Mahrtiir had to hold him back. “Linden.”

The halved clutch of Covenant’s right hand slipped. Smoke curled from his grasp: the odor of cooked meat became more acute. But he did not admit defeat. Hooking the two fingers of his halfhand over the blade’s guards, he continued to pull against the clasp of Caer-Caveral’s death.

I need this. I need to be numb.

Now the krill’s gem burned directly into his palm. In another moment, his hands would catch flame: they would be permanently crippled. But he did not appear to feel the pain; gave no sign that he recognized the smell. His leprosy enabled him to keep his grip, but it also prevented him from knowing how badly he was damaging himself.

“Covenant Giantfriend!” Rime Coldspray towered over him; yet the stark extremity of his efforts made him seem her equal. “Stand aside! This is caamora, the province of Giants. Will you maim yourself and be made useless? Your flesh cannot endure such grief! You must permit me—”

Joan was doing this, Joan. Somehow she—or turiya Herem—recognized Covenant’s grasp on the krill. The Raver surely guided her; but the wild magic was hers.

Still Covenant heaved with his whole strength. Strain tore a hoarse snarl between his teeth, but did not free the knife.

A cry rose like bile in Linden’s throat. She swallowed it so that she would not vomit.

“Ironhand!” barked Stave. “Aid me!”